


money makes the man

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Beating, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Slade's son is missing, his abilities damped, and he can only think of two people both capable and willing to help: Bruce Wayne's devil children.





	money makes the man

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am sam and im here to beat up slade for seven days straight in sladerobin week 
> 
> /brief mentions of cannibalism, mentions of decapitation

 

The patrons in the front of the bar go quiet when he enters. Slade barely notices, takes the half second he needs to assess the room, and then he's walking to the table in the back. There's four people sat around but he's only interested in two of them; Dick Grayson and Jason Todd.

Grayson, a pretty boy with a pretty smile, sits in the ragged booth with a woman far to big to be in his lap perched contently in his lap. He's smiling, he usually is, and nodding along to whatever the other man is saying. It's nothing relevant to what Slade wants or needs so he doesn't listen. Grayson is mean, pretends to be the brains so people will underestimate him when he's separated from his brother. He's not a killer, though. He has morals and usually they're aligned with the good- or at least with what passes as good anymore.

If Slade wants anything from them, he's going to have to convince Grayson.

Todd is of a different sort. Too much like Slade; too uncaring to anything that he doesn't consider ‘his own’. He stands cooly off to the side, back leaned against the wall as he smokes and listens but doesn't react. His eyes have been fixed to Slade since the second he entered the bar, anyways. He's mean, like his brother, but also violent like Grayson isn't capable of being. Pretends to be the brawn so people underestimate him when he's separated from his brother. A killer.

Todd would sooner see him in a shallow grave.

Two halves of a very dangerous, volatile whole.

Slade grabs the man, neither important enough to know or care about, and throws him out of the chair by the back of his shirt. Now all eyes are on him. He drops his bag on the table, on top of whatever they were discussing previously, and the audible metallic sound of its contents seem to echo around the silent room. Grayson and his ‘sweetheart’ look at him curiously.

“What is this?” Grayson asks.

“Payment,” Slade answers.

“For what,” Todd demands.

“My son was taken,” Slade says. If not for the fact that he's been dreading this from the second he realised Bruce Wayne’s devil children were likely his only viable option, admitting it would be painful. He's already swallowed his pride to have to sink this low.

Neither of them say anything immediately. Finally, Grayson whispers to his friend, “I'll see you later, Kori. No reason to get you involved in this.” She hums contently, flicks her hair around her arm and Slade watches as she floats off, leaving the three of them alone. Grayson adjusts himself to neatly cross his shins and reaches to pull the string of the bag. It falls open, revealing the assortment of metal inside.

“Please, have a seat, Slade,” Grayson offers.

“I'm good,” Slade assures.

“Sit,” Todd sneers. It's really not a suggestion. Slade drops himself in the empty chair just so he doesn't have to deal with this conversation any further.

“You think we took him?” Todd asks as Grayson picks up an arbitrary piece to examine. Slade doesn't look him in the eye. He knows from experience Grayson’s hypnos work just as well on him as anyone else.

“If we did, you know it would likely be to hide him from you, right?” Grayson comments.

“Or because we got tired of your shit and wanted to teach you a lesson,” Todd says.

“I know you didn't take him,” Slade says firmly. It was a thought that crossed his mind but ultimately, it doesn't make sense; both physically and rationally. Grayson and Todd have a very specific work ethic and it's not this.

“So you know who did?” Grayson asks.

“I know it wasn't you,” Slade replies. He has a rough idea, of course he does, but he was a little busy at the time to get the details he needed to be completely sure. He'll have them soon.

“So what are you tryin’ to pay us for?” Todd asks, exhaling irritably and releasing smoke through his nose. Slade can see his fingers flicking, browsing through the arsenal contained at his wrist to find something appropriate to use on him. He didn't come here to fight- that would end poorly for him.

“You're a competent man, Slade,” Grayson agrees. “You've hunted down people before, why do you need us?” Slade presses his teeth together hard, stiffening his jaw and flaring his nostrils as he tries to keep himself calm. He's angry, he can't deny that; not with them but with himself. With the situation he's been put in. Maybe more with Joseph than he'd like to be. Instead of answering, he pulls the collar of his protective suit down and shows off the solid black band around his neck.

They both stare at him a moment. Grayson looks shocked first in a surprised kind of way then in a ‘kid on Christmas’ kind of way. He runs his tongue over his lip and smiles. Todd laughs, puffs of cigarette smoke whisping around him. Slade pulls his collar back up.

“They dampened you,” Grayson says. It's not a question. “Enough that you don't think you can manage on your own, at least. You still look forty so obviously they couldn't completely negate you.” Slade tries not to flinch when there's suddenly a foot on the inside of his thigh. It's not Grayson’s, surprisingly, but Todd's. Getting no reaction, he presses down harder and Slade sneers. He grabs Todd’s ankle and shoves him away. Todd laughs.

“You can't heal,” he confirms. Slade clenches his teeth. “You're  _injured_.”

“Yes,” he admits shortly. Grayson drops the piece he was looking at, less than interested in the value of things now. There's a lot of things Slade can't do right now. His meta ability is dampened, yes, but they did a lot more than that. When they realised they couldn't turn him off completely, they did the next best thing; they distracted him. It's not that he  _can't_  heal, it's that his body and mind are frantically focusing all of the effort he has into not letting the collar completely consume him.

Slade has felt things he hasn't felt in years. He doesn't like it.

“You're putting a lot on the line telling us this,” Grayson comments. There's a lot of- ‘bad blood’ isn't exactly right.  _Tension_  is more accurate. Now a days, they try not to step on one another toes but Slade is fully aware that's a courtesy on their part. While a huge part of the reason he stopped going head to head with them was because he stopped being Deathstroke, that doesn't negate the fact that they were getting  _good_. Even now, they're constantly changing and evolving in ways Slade has good reason to not  _want_  to deal with.

That's not to say he couldn't take them if he weren't dampened, of course, but the sheer collateral damage that such a fight would cause simply isn't worth it. If they really wanted to come after him, to get back at him for everything he's done in the past, it would turn his world upside down one way or another.

They're mean now but they're still good people. Something even Slade is glad for. 

“You still can't kill me,” he assures, less as a matter of fact and more as a tired warning not to try.

“Then why don't we just cut off your head and pull the damping collar off?” Todd asks, an idea based solely in spite rather than helpfulness.

“I hate to agree but that does seem like a good idea,” Grayson says and he nods.

“That doesn't find my son,” Slade replies blandly.

“It allows  _you_  to find your son,” Grayson assures.

“By the time I regenerated, I'd have lost any leads I have,” Slade says. “Like how they're crawling away with every second we waste in this discussion.”

“That's no one's fault but your own,” Todd says.

“So you want us to help you find Joey and hopefully in the process, a way to remove your dampening band?” Grayson confirms. “Without decapitating you.”

“Yes,” Slade answers. Grayson and Todd exchange a look. They seem to consider it individually for a moment but, ultimately, don't actually discuss it. Outloud, anyways. Even Slade isn't sure how far Grayson’s augments go.

“I like Joey,” Grayson says. That's exactly what Slade was hoping to cash in on.

“But this isn't a situation we're gonna be passin’ on,” Todd says. And that's exactly what Slade was afraid of.

“We don't want your money, Slade,” Grayson assures. He smiles and a smirk tugs at Todd’s lips.

Slade knows he's going to regret asking, “what do you want?”

-

Going into this, Slade knew money wasn't the issue. He has lots of it, Grayson and Todd  _know_  he has lots of it,  _they_  have lots of it. At the end of the day, he hadn't bothered thinking too hard about what they would ask for instead, though. There were too many things and ultimately, as long as it got Joseph back in relatively one piece, he'd be willing to pay it.

What they ask for isn't shocking, anyways.

Him.

“Fuck, this is satisfying,” Todd scoffs, kicking Slade in the stomach again and sending another hot white flash of pain through him. Slade feels pain on a typical basis it's just lesser and for not as long. Now he feels it in full force and maybe even then some, his body and brain not used to dealing with it appropriately and therefore overreacting to it. He's out of breath and exhausted despite not fighting back, not really at least. Even if he agreed to this, it's both difficult to suddenly just  _not_  defend himself and he knows Todd wouldn't have near as much fun that way, anyways.

Grayson sits aside, not so much watching as he is patiently waiting. Todd kicks him again. At any rate, he's not actually aiming to do any damage. He's avoided Slade’s injured thigh and hasn't broken any bones despite the fact that requires him to intentionally hold back. Aside from his lip being split, his eye starting to swell, and the rest of him surely starting to turn black and blue, Todd really hasn't  _damaged_  him.

Slade gets to his hands and knees slowly when Todd walks away from him. Blood drips from his mouth.

“Sure you don't want a go?” Todd asks. Grayson shakes his head. “Seriously, it's good.”

“Looks like it hurts,” Grayson murmurs, grimacing a little. If he feels bad about this, it's obviously not enough to stop it. Slade can take a beating. This is by far one of the easiest things they could want from him. He's sure it's not the only thing, of course. He agreed, in not as few words, to be at their ‘mercy’ until they find Joseph- under the stipulation, of course, that they actually look for him. Slade doesn't think they're malicious enough to take so much of an advantage of this that they'd risk Joseph’s life.

“Kind of the point,” Todd assures. He steps on Slade’s back, his heavy boot pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, and pushes him back to the ground. If this was about trying to humiliate him, he feels they wouldn't have drug him back behind the bar to do it. Honestly, he can't find fault in Todd for finding satisfaction in this. He won't be holding any grudges.

“Pass,” Grayson says, lifting a dismissive hand. Slade would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little concerned about what Grayson is going to be getting out of this. Todd kicks him over onto his back and Slade tries to catch his breath. He can't remember the last time he was actually exhausted physically.

“‘ight, that's enough,” Todd assures. He hoists Slade to his feet by the front of his suit and allows him to lean against the wall while he tries to recompose himself. There isn't a single part of him that doesn't hurt. “Let's get goin’ before we lose your lead.”

“Whatever you say,” Slade replies but it lacks the certain air of sarcasm or irritation when he has to huff through it. Grayson hops off the post he was perched on, approaching them as Slade pulls the scrap of fabric from his his bag to show them. Todd takes it, holds it up briefly to let Grayson scan it, then it disappears into his inventory.

“There's a warehouse,” Slade says and he pauses to breath in deeply. “Two hour ride from here. Rumor is people wearing this symbol go in and out all the time.”

“Sounds like a good place to start,” Grayson agrees. Todd doesn't say anything but he walks off. Slade pushes off the wall to follow and Grayson gives him a smile, seemingly walking with him to make sure he doesn't collapse. The beating Todd gave him was rough but it took the pain off his thigh for the time being at least.

Todd mounts his motorcycle and reaches to the nape of his neck to activate his Hood. Grayson hops on the back, side saddle with really the only thing holding him on being his feet propped on the sidecar- the sidecar they obviously want him to ride in. Honestly, at this point, whatever. Slade reaches to activate his own headgear as he wedges himself into the cart obviously intended for Grayson. There's a  _little_  of a size difference between them.

Grayson’s augments mean he can leave the safety of the bio-bubbles without any external gear. He still dons an eye mask, mostly to keep the sand physically out of his eyes, but otherwise he can breathe just fine in the hot harshness of the outside world. Likewise, he doesn't need a protective suit to stop him from boiling alive. It's always an odd scene seeing someone as unprotected as Grayson wandering around outside a bubble.

Slade stares up at Grayson mostly because Grayson stares down at him. It's hard to tell if his ability to stay seated without any obviously secures is from an augmentation or his own inherently elevated acrobatic ability. It's that kind of unknown that makes Grayson dangerous to fight. Aside from the occasional direction Grayson gives, and the very short one sided fight with a territorial gang, it's a quiet ride.

They make it in under an hour.

-

“Find anything yet?” Todd asks. Abandoned, of course it is. Well, it wasn't when they got here but the people inside were scavengers, not kidnappers.

“Not yet,” Grayson assures, still padding around the place to properly scan every inch and crease with his Sight. Slade would call it a waste of time but considering he doesn't have any other leads right now, waiting here is their best bet. Scavengers don't hang out in empty buildings for no reason and the fact that they obviously haven't set up any kind of housing structure here means they get chased out fairly frequently.

“It's gettin' dark,” Todd says. “We should room here for the night.”

“O is running some data for me,” Grayson murmurs. “That's a good idea.” Slade watches as he nonchalantly walks around another body to keep scanning worn writings on the walls. He doesn't want to sleep here but going out at night is always the worst idea of any two. As he searches another body for anything good, he becomes aware of Todd watching  _him_.

Slade looks at him and Todd stares back.

“Leg still botherin’ you?” Todd ‘asks’ but it sounds more like a fact he's stating.

“You beat me,” Slade replies. A fact.

“Ain't enough to make you limp,” Todd assures. He's not wrong. Without his healing factor, he's left to deal with injuries like everyone else- barely. Slade is certain it's infected by now, something not helped by the fact that he hasn't actually stopped to clean it. He doesn't keep a lot of medical supplies on him through virtue of never needing them personally.

Slade looks away as Todd takes another bite out of an arm he's picked up.

“No secret rooms,” Grayson says off handedly. “But someone doesn't put up a solar powered bubble in the middle of nowhere for no reason. Someone will have to come back here.”

“Someone with answers, hopefully,” Todd answers. Grayson stops his mindless info searching.

“Jason!” he snaps suddenly. Todd stops halfway to another bite. “We have real food!”

“Wasteful,” Todd replies fleetingly, chewing off another piece. Grayson exhales in annoyance. He turns to Slade instead of having this conversation, again obviously. Slade pockets a pretty trinket.

“Come with me,” he instructs. Slade inherently doesn't like the tone in which he's being ‘instructed’ in but he decides, for everyone's benefit, it's more for Todd. That and he's technically not in a position to argue. He follows Grayson into a different room, this one actually with its own door. Slade scans the area none too discreetly.

“Do you want me to clean your wound?” Grayson offers.

“It's fine,” Slade says.

“If the infection spreads, you're going to be useless,” he answers. Slade looks back at him mildly. The fact that he's right is mostly just annoying. He doesn't want to have the dampening collar on long enough for the infection to spread but he also doesn't have much of a choice. It sounds like a waste of medical supplies to him. If he turns this down, however, he knows the infection will kill him sooner rather than later and negate his ‘don't decapitate me’ point from earlier.

“Fine,” Slade agrees. Grayson smiles at him. Removing his suit isn't a complete hassle fortunately, his copious amounts of money and long list of owed favours keeps him in the newest gear. It is strange having Grayson watch him the entire time, though, and his ingrained paranoia assures him that Grayson is remembering how to take it off for nefarious purposes.

Which is definitely a possibility.

Once it's off, Slade brushes out his clothes underneath. It's so rare he takes his suit off he doesn't generally bother over dressing underneath. Standing in an abandoned warehouse in his pajamas in front of someone who probably considers him an enemy and has bargained his ‘cooperation’ with is by far one of the least weird things to happen in his life, honestly.

Grayson arches a curious brow but says nothing as Slade, after a moment of hesitation, drops his pants so he can have access to the injury. He hops up on what was probably once a desk and Grayson digs through his bag for his first aid kit. A lot of his skin is already a gangly purple from Todd’s beating. His suit really wasn't made to withstand blunt force trauma like that.

“What do you get out of this?” Slade asks. Grayson looks at him curiously before going back to looking through the inventory of his kit. He has to remind himself not to look Grayson in the eye; he's extremely good at getting people to lower their guards and forget about that.

“What do you mean?” he asks back.

“Your brother gets the ‘satisfaction’ of hitting me until he feels better,” he says. “You're not the kind of person to extract your comfort from my hide. What do you get out of this?”

“Nothing?” Grayson answers bemusedly. “Honestly, I just want to make sure Joey is alright. If you're desperate enough to ask us for help, then you must have a good reason to think he's in a lot of danger.” That sounds nice but Slade isn't buying it. Todd was never officially kicked out of the Wayne manor.

Grayson was kicked out for killing.

The company that ‘perfected’ Grayson via his augments, Spyral, no longer exists  _because_  of Grayson and his augments.

Just because Grayson isn't brutal, doesn't mean he isn't violent. He sat aside, unaffected, while Todd literally beat him blue. He's sat aside on worse.

“You expect me to believe that?” Slade asks. Grayson laughs a little. He moves to Slade finally and pushes the leg of his boxers up to get a good look at the nasty looking gash on his thigh.

“If you want the full truth, I'm kinda hoping spending time with you while looking for Joey will lead to sex at some point,” Grayson says. Oh. Right. Of course. Somehow still not the weirdest direction this could be going.

“Are you expecting me to honor my ‘agreement’ for that?” Slade asks. The pain he feels when Grayson touches his injury catches him a little off guard and he flinches despite himself.

“No,” Grayson assures with a snort. The cool gel on the inside of his leg is instantly relieving. Then way, way worse. Slade nearly jerks away before he catches himself, gritting his teeth as he blinks through the pain.

“I'm not having sex with you,” he assures in more of a snap than he means to.

“Would you have for the agreement?” Grayson asks in amusement.

“No,” Slade answers bluntly.

“Am I not attractive enough for you?” he asks.

“You're a child,” he replies.

“I'm twenty five?” Grayson reminds him. This whole conversation is way too surreal and he's obviously not taking it seriously. He's barely any older than Joseph. Younger than Grant would have been.

“I'm in my nineties,” Slade says. Grayson’s hands on the inside of his thigh feel awkward and out of place now even if, from what he can tell through the searing pain of having an infection ripped straight out of his flesh, they're purely medical. 

“So you're a slightly older adult?” Grayson says like he doesn't see the glaring issue. “In a thirty year old body, by the way. Do you really restrict yourself to people your own age? Must be a small dating pool.”

“My experiences-” he begins.

“Kori is nearly three hundred and fifty,” Grayson says. “Try again.” Slade lets out a stressed breath.

“We've been at odds ends with each other nearly your entire life,” he says irritably. “Why is this even a thing you're interested in?” Grayson smiles at him, far too charming for his own good.

“You have a breaking point,” he says and he yanks something suddenly, blinding Slade with pain. “I want to see it.” It takes Slade a moment to not simply  _pass_   _out_  from how bad it hurts. It takes him longer to figure out what the hell he's supposed to say to that- if anything. Grayson wraps his thigh in an old style bandage. Rudimentary but easy and cheap.

“I can be convincing,” Grayson assures, dropping his voice to a octave lower as he runs his fingertips across the skin right above Slade’s new bandage. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip in a suggestive way that makes it perfectly clear what he's implying. The lingering pain, fortunately, makes it a little easier for him to think clearly and  _not_  only about how long it's been since he's been with another person.

It definitely feels like a trap. Slade can't actually put together a scenario in his head to why that would be the case, however, so he disregards the thought. Grayson’s fingers move higher up on his thigh questioningly when Slade doesn't answer for too long.

“Say no,” he hums teasingly, placing a small kiss on the inside of Slade’s knee. ‘Breaking point’ he says- he wants to see Slade lose control for his own sexual gratification. He knows he'll never see it in a fight so he thinks he can make it happen during sex. In the condition Slade is in right now, he might be right in thinking this is the prime opportunity for it. Weird as it is, Slade can understand the reasoning behind this, too, and more specifically why Grayson would be enraptured by the idea.

“Say yes,” Grayson says a little more questioning and a little less seductive this time. He plants another kiss, higher on his thigh but Slade still doesn't outwardly respond. Giving him what he wants will mean not having to deal with this the entire time. That being said, scoring him now will likely have the same effect.

He's- attractive. And right. People nowadays don't exactly live long, especially not as long as Slade, and dating people at least closer to his age usually means he's drawing the short end of the stick. Those like him, either augmented to live longer or with meta genes or simply ‘enhanced’, are generally assholes. Also like Slade.

“Say  _something_?” Grayson urges, stopping his ‘temptation’ to look up at Slade in exasperation. Slade mentally weighs his options; pros and cons, repercussions and value, if it's actually morally wrong or just uniquely weird, if anything he gets out of it is worth a potential blowback. He looks down at Grayson, avoiding his eyes by focusing on his mouth.

“Slade?” he says, an air of concern taking his tone now. Slade realises he's been entirely unresponsive for a couple minutes now, his usual quick paced thinking stilted by the dampening. It even has him  _thinking_  slower.

Decapitation isn't sounding so bad anymore.

“Then convince me,” Slade finally says. Dick grins. He doesn't hesitate further, immediately popping himself up on his knees to be at the proper height and sliding his hand completely under Slade’s boxer leg. Someone else touching him is definitely a sensation he's missed now that it's happening and Dick’s surprisingly soft hand stroking him hard is highly welcomed.

Dick isn't going to ‘break’ him like this, not with sex, but Slade is more than willing to let him try. He puts a hand on the back of Dick’s head, threading his fingers in his hair, and holds him but doesn't guide him. Once he's actually hard, Dick pushes the waistband of his boxers down under his sack and seems to marvel briefly at his cock. He kisses up the side before kissing the tip, flicking his tongue out to lap at the precum that beads to the tip.

When was the last time he was with someone so pretty? Slade doesn't think about it long and instead moves his hand further down to stroke the nape of Dick’s neck with his fingertips. Dick takes the head into his mouth and hallows his cheeks with a soft pressure. He runs his tongue along the fringe before beginning to bob his head.

To say that Slade is annoyed is putting it lightly. He hurts. Both his injury and Todd’s beating and honestly, he still feels sore from even the fight before that. He didn't expect the pain to be such a distraction from getting head from a pretty guy. Good head, he might add. Dick was not overestimating himself when he said he could be convincing. Slade tries to focus on him more than he does the pain his his thigh, where Dick has thoughtless rested his elbow, or in his stomach that his new arousal has inflamed again.

Results are mixed.

Dick takes him further and further, fluttering his pretty eyes as he reaches the back of his throat. As sizable as Slade is, Dick takes it with ease, pushing his cock into his throat and sinking down to the very base. Slade exhales a content noise.

“Impressive,” he comments. The amused noise Dick makes around his cock hits him straight in the gut.

The sudden realization that he's been tricked into a ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine with the two brothers doesn't slip past Slade. With Dick’s full, flushed lips nestled in his grey pubes, however, it's hard to let that bother him right now. Dick pulls off slowly, spit stringing to his mouth as he pulls off with a wet ‘pop’. He's not even out of breath and Slade notes, with interest, his augments have quite a few uses. 

Dick presses his elbow into Slade’s thigh and that  _searing_  pain he was trying to ignore flares up with a vengeance. As he sinks back down, Slade firms his grip and shoves him down fully. He catches Dick off guard, getting a muffled little noise from him and his fingers dug into his knees, but it’s brief before Dick slacks in his hold. From hooded eyes, Dick looks up at him with nothing less than a beckoning need.

Slade has  _got_  to stop looking him in the eye.

Tilting his head back slightly, Slade fucks Dick’s throat to his leisure. Spit runs down his cock but even with the occasional rough buck, Dick doesn't gag. He feels the pressure on his injury disappear and Slade looks back down to find Dick reaching to stroke his own cock. Dick groans around him as he flutters his eyes closed.

He comes first, not exactly surprising, and Slade continues using his throat to his own end. Dick’s mouth is soft and warm and his lack of needing to breathe is a nice addition. With little warning, Dick grabs his thigh very pointedly and very firmly before driving his thumb into the newly cleaned gouge there. Slade rasps out a pained noise as he jerks, retaliating irritably by yanking Dick down firmly.

The jolt of pain, however, makes him come hard. He closes his eye as Dick diligently swallows around him. Slade lets his head go and Dick slides off his softening cock with a smug, satisfying grin. He clears his throat before speaking. He's not even out of breath- somehow more annoying when Slade, at the very least, is breathing harder than usual.

“Convincing enough?” Grayson asks.

He's playing right into their stupid game and he knows it. Todd beats the shit out of him then Grayson gets to play ‘sexy’ nurse. At the end of the day, however, if all they're getting out of this is some weird sexual gratification and he gets his dick sucked like a champ, Slade thinks he can live with this arrangement.

“You two better be done!” Todd calls. “Someone's coming! Someone  _besides_  either of you!” Grayson rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet. He runs his thumb along his mouth and audible swipes his tongue through his mouth.

“I guess we'll have to find out later,” Grayson assures. “Get your suit back on.”

As far as dealing with devils goes, this is going to be an interesting one. 


End file.
